Hold Me
by Rennwood Phoenix
Summary: An emotional evening leads to a late night chat, chamomile tea, and more emotions. Set directly after the events of "4,722 Hours." AU, now that the rest of the season is out.
**A/N:**

 **This was written right after I watched "4,722 Hours" and had so many Fitzsimmons feels, I couldn't keep them in. This fic happened, and I just found it, buried in the deep, dark reaches of my laptop.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Hold Me**

"We're gonna get him back."

Jemma nodded, eyes welling with tears and chin trembling. Fitz's eyes were so soft, understanding, yet determined . . . She threw herself into his arms, seeking the comfort she knew only he could offer.

He was so different from Will . . . Will was all tough, sad, survival; scraggly beard, narrow, unbelieving eyes . . .

Fitz was warm, caring, and tender. He reminded her of winter nights and fireplaces; hot, spiced cider; cozy blankets; long nights in the lab . . . And he smelled of aftershave and circuit boards. His arms were firm around her, like she would slip away any moment; like he was trying to convince himself that she was really there.

 _I'm still trying to believe it, myself._

Jemma sniffed and pulled away from Fitz. He gazed down at her, eyes betraying his concern.

"Thank you," she whispered, wiping her tears away. "Thank you, Fitz . . ." If any English words existed to describe how much gratitude and affection she felt for her friend at that moment, they were forever lost to her.

But, as always, he seemed to understand.

"Don't mention it."

Jemma couldn't sleep.

Usually she slept completely fine; she knew how to get her body to calm down and rest. But tonight was different. Revealing the entire story to Fitz brought back all the feelings of desperation, pain, and hopelessness she'd suppressed so far. It also brought back, in frighteningly clear focus, the memory of Will and his kisses. She'd held back that part of the story, for obvious reasons. Now the memory made her feel just the slightest twinge of guilt. She knew, good and well, how Fitz felt about her . . . But she didn't exactly know how _she_ felt about _him_.

So no rest came to her that night.

At around one-thirty AM, she decided she'd had enough. Pulling on the softest pair of slippers she owned, she crept out of bed and down the long hallway toward the kitchen. A cup of hot tea was just what she needed.

She should have expected the sight that awaited her as she padded through the lounge area, mug of chamomile tea in her hands. An all-too-familiar form sat on the only sofa, flannel-clad legs kicked up onto an ottoman. Un-groomed, curly hair peeked up from the back of the couch. A bare arm rested on the side, holding the television remote. The TV played nearly silently.

Jemma stopped, just for a moment, debating what to do. She could turn around, go back to her room, leave Fitz here, and never look back, or she could sit and explain how she felt . . . If she even knew, herself.

Her legs seemed to move of their own accord, bringing her closer and closer to the sofa. She sat quickly, though carefully, as not to spill her tea.

"Do you always come here at night?"

Fitz jumped, pressing the power off button on his remote almost as a reflex. "Huh? No! I mean, um, not . . . often."

Jemma sipped her tea, keeping her eyes anywhere but on Fitz.

"Can't you sleep either?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I just . . . I keep imagining that planet . . ." He paused. "I wish I was there with you."

Jemma shook her head violently. "No, you don't, Fitz. I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

"I didn't say I wish _you wished_ I was there. I said I wanted to be there with you. Listen." He sighed, turning to face her on the couch. "Remember when you left after I woke up with . . . hypoxia?"

She nodded. "How could I forget?"

"Well, after you left, I kept seeing you. Well, not _you,_ but I guess it was my mind's version of you. It sounds strange, I know. Don't look at me like that. It wasn't my fault. You were the only thing I had left to hold onto, Jemma. All the others: Skye, May, Coulson, Tripp . . . they were all nice enough, but they didn't understand. I forgot _words_ , Jemma. _Words_. And theories. And equations. And sometimes I couldn't even repeat the periodic table. I forgot everything. Except you. You were always there, right beside me, reminding me of things I forgot, helping me along." He reached a hand up and absently rubbed his left shoulder. "I know it wasn't _actually_ you, but . . . Jemma. You kept me sane after I thought you died. I mean, no one would tell me _anything_ about where you'd gone. Not even Mack. All I knew, or thought I knew, was that you'd gone to see your parents. A trip to England to visit doesn't take _months._ "

He took a deep breath. "Anyway, that's over now. My point is, having you gone . . . those months were the worst of my entire life. Worse than that time I broke my leg and Agent Weaver wouldn't let me work in my normal lab."

"Because you would have broken something!" Jemma smiled. "You were a terror with those crutches."

"Yeah, I was, wasn't I?" He grinned, but then it faded. "Jemma. You leaving was maybe worse than those first weeks after Dad died."

She shook her head. "Don't say that, Fitz. You can't compare me to your father."

"I was only seven. I didn't know any better. I hardly even remember him now. But you . . . I didn't know what happened to you, both times." He took a deep, shaky breath. "I just wanted to be there with you . . . on that planet . . . so you wouldn't have to be alone . . . And so I could actually _know_ if you were okay, instead of guessing."

A single tear rolled down Jemma's cheek. Fitz lifted a hand and wiped it away.

"I'm sorry, Fitz. I'm sorry . . ." she breathed.

"It's okay," he assured, opening his arms, inviting her into his embrace. She set down her tea shakily, and leaned into him.

"Fitz," she whispered, not trusting her normal voice. "Fitz, I have to tell you . . . When I tried to find you on the planet . . . After Will and I watched the portal open . . . then close again, I was so . . . devastated. I thought I'd never see you again." Her breath hitched, and she buried her face into his T-shirt. "And . . . And please, don't think any less of me, or . . . Or anything. Fitz, Will kissed me. And I . . . I let him . . . And I kissed him back."

He was quiet for a long, long time. Jemma cried silently into his chest until her tears ran out.

Finally, he said, unbelieving, "You thought I'd be angry with you?"

"I don't know . . . I don't know what you'd think."

"I could never be angry with you, Jemma," he whispered. "It was your choice. You're by far old enough to make your own decisions."

Those words were like cool water to her parched soul. The relief let her smile as she looked up to see her grin mirrored on his face. "At least, I'd hope so," he joked. "Who knows, maybe you're a newborn alien in Jemma's skin, pretending to—" He was cut off by a not-unwelcome feeling of her lips on his.

When she pulled back, he was left sitting, mouth half open, eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. Then, without wasting another second, and before she could say anything, he pulled her even tighter to himself and kissed her for all he was worth.

Bobbi was bored. It wasn't normal for her, but it was early in the morning, no one else was up, and she didn't have any reports to file or any Inhumans to analyze, and she'd already done all her rehab exercizes. She wandered around, glancing into rooms to find someone, _anyone_ to talk to. She didn't like being alone.

Finally coming to the rec room (which didn't exactly fit its name; it only contained a TV and a video game console), she was about to plop onto one of the giant chairs with a heaving sigh, when a peculiar but not unwelcome sight met her eyes. Two exhausted-looking figures slept on the sofa. One was stretched out, head thrown back, bare feet resting on the coffee table. His mouth hung slightly open, and he occasionally emitted a half-snore. The other slept curled up into his side, knees tucked up to her chin. Her head rested on his chest, and one of his arms was slung around her waist.

Bobbi couldn't hold back her idiotic grin as she stared at the two. She wondered if this was reminiscent of the old Fitzsimmons she'd always heard about, but never had the pleasure to witness. She backed out of the room slowly. The sun still had an hour to go before it reached the horizon . . . And Jemma needed her rest.


End file.
